Thank you Hernando

I really do not want to say "thank you" to you. Those two words seem so very inadequate. Yet, how do I express this gratitude that overwhelms my spirit?

Every day, and some sleepless (or nightmare filled) nights, I live with autism awareness. I'm aware my oldest son might not be understood, or accepted, or find his hoodie (yet again) or say something awkward, or be bullied, or be too full of energy, or forget an assignment, or not understand instructions, or .... the list is too long to write here. Every day, I pray my youngest will not be so overwhelmed by sounds in a pep rally or meeting that he comes home (again) violently ill, pale, and worn out from trying to process the extraneous sounds assaulting his ears. I pray he does not miss some critical piece of instruction while screening out other sounds in the environment. (Auditory Processing Disorder falls under the autism umbrella, it's something like bionic hearing but with no screen to filter out background noise).

I do not remember the last time I enjoyed the luxury of reading a novel. Instead I read news feeds, special education law updates, research articles, and follow political campaigns for autism related issues.

Sometimes the memories of past public encounters rise to the surface. I try to suppress them. I try to forgive and I try to rise above, and I try not to be caught up in the bitter. But the insidious images steal in sometimes and strike a blow to my being. I still see the woman who was bold enough to touch my son in the grocery store and tell me how to parent. I pray God gives me credit for not decking her, or launching into a tirade. I might have walked away but she still haunts me. I think of the educators who have been inadequate and of the times I've had to steel myself for meetings, yet attempt to squash my Irish temper so my son gets an appropriate education. I am not proud of the way my emotions have expressed themselves at times, and I resent being put into those situations. I think about all the "fun" events we didn't go to - still don't go to - because my son might not be able to handle the sounds, lights, interactions. I think of the therapies, the struggle... and I risk spiraling down into something dark, bitter, depressive. I fight this spiral every single day, and only God's grace and Friends-placed-in-my-life-by-Him keep me from falling into the abyss.

We humans are a pitiful lot. So often we get caught up in all the negatives, all the hurts, all the emotions, that we forget there is still much good in the world. It happens to all of us, in varying circumstances. We think no one cares, no one understands.

But we are wrong. People do care. There are great teachers and therapists who are shining lights in our children's lives. There are parents raising children who are compassionate, caring, and concerned. There are students who want to see their peers succeed, who are helpful, kind, committed. 

In the past 48 hours, I have been witness to some profound sites:

*An entire school decked out in blue -- from teachers in blue capes, banners on the wall, the entire student body outfitted in shades of blue, signs on the school, along the roadway, and blue lights on the buildings.
*The blue puzzle piece the high school winter guard created to take on the road to state competition (because they would miss the race). 
*An entire high school marching band (well, a great percentage of them) who came to race, and rally on the Square.
*A community that came out to the town square when they could've stayed in bed on a cold, rainy Saturday morning. But instead they came out in droves to support Autism awareness.
*The sight of 400 runners braving the weather and setting out to run a race for a good cause. 
*Costumes & home-made t-shirts, each representing love and concern.
*Kind words, applause, acceptance.... the list goes on!

Autism is not going away. We desperately need to find a cure. 

And I need to figure out a way to tell the folks at Hernando High School, and the entire Hernando community, how very much their commitment, energy, kindness, and acceptance means to me. They are making a difference in my sons' lives and lives of countless children here in DeSoto County and around the world. Their actions inspire other communities, give hope to parents, and are setting an example which all schools should follow. They are creating a legacy -- these images and memories will carry forth to college, marriages, and careers. Compassion and acceptance will reign, instead of the negative, cruel actions we too often see in the news.

Maybe a day will come when we will not need to have rallies and races to create awareness about autism or other special needs issues. I hope so. And I hope my sons & I can give back to the global community in deed and prayer, in thanksgiving for the difference Hernando has made in our lives, and the support they've given to the world-wide Autism Awareness campaigns.

You are shining lights, each of you. 

I thank God for you!

Oh Sugar!

Reposting from March 2009, as I close out my Facebook Notes and move them to my blog site.

On Saturday a 5 year old boy was brought to the ER with a small laceration on his head. While his Mom had been at work, his Grandma had been watching the boy. He'd fallen and had a small bump and cut (which Grandma had tended to) but Mom brought him in for medical care to be on the safe side.

I walked into triage while a veteran nurse was talking to Mom and her son. She was asking Mom to identify the white granules around the open, red laceration. But mom didn't know.
The veteran nurse didn't know.
She asked me if I knew what that substance could could be.

Immediately my mind went back in time ... and I knew.

I said,  that's "old-time country medicine" and I looked at the boy and asked, "Did your grandma put sugar on your head?" He said, "Yes ma'am."

I was smiling at the young child, but I was thinking of my father. He would use sugar to clot wounds on animals and humans alike. He had learned this medicine from his mother.. who had been a nurse.

Sometimes when I miss him so, I still get glimpses of my Dad.

Parenting Confessions from TV Land

It can't be easy on my boys, being raised by a Geek. I can't help myself. I'm a reader, a thinker, and a researcher.

I had developed some strong ideas about television and parenting, before I became a parent. The plan was simple: More Books, Less TV. If the tv was going to be on, it would only be PBS and documentaries. No trash tv, no questionable values. No need to fill our brains with something that wasn't educational or purposeful. It sure was easy to be an authority on parenting... when I didn't have children!


Looking at the big picture, some of my righteous pre-parenting goals have been met. Reading does happen in our house, most days. Our home library is an eclectic mix of children's classics, historical biographies, research and educational volumes. We don't have cable tv, and thankfully have never watched a single "reality" show. (I still maintain that our lives are as much 'reality' as I can handle).

Yet, my sons, with their needs and learning styles, have changed my perspective on tv viewing for children. With great humility, I admit my oldest (born overseas and not my son until age 3-1/2) learned a lot of English from watching 'Yan Can Cook.' Props also go to The Weather Channel, for helping me teach geography, math, and social studies to both boys. My son still has a framed, autographed picture from Dr. Steve Lyons on his wall, and the "Tropical Update" remains must-see viewing on the internet. As the boys have gotten older, I've allowed them to watch NCIS and Dr. Who, but that was the extent of our 'fluff' tv-watching.

But, there is something I must confess. I watch junk tv comedy (love my Golden Girls dvds) when the kids aren't around. On top of that, I've developed relationships with two very different men. At first, I was able to hide these gentlemen from my children. But both men make me laugh and forget my troubles. I escape with them when I am tired and need a dose of humor. One day I turned on junk tv while the boys were home. They were in their rooms, they weren't paying any attention, I was tired....

And as I was watching an episode of Frasier, the boys heard me laugh. They came out to the living room to investigate and ended up sitting with me through the episode. And I noticed something. My oldest son, who is very high functioning and diagnosed with Autism, looked at me on a couple occasions and said "What does that mean?" I realized, the double entendre's and awkward social situations on the show were teaching my son Social Skills, better than any lecture from me. And thus the boys met those two special men of mine, and we began a journey through (almost*) every episode of Frasier, and then Bernie Mac.

The dialogue that's been created in our home has been fantastic. "Why did Frasier say that?" ... "Is his Dad upset?" .... "Was that the right thing to do?" .... "Why did the children do that?" .... "Is that the right way to react?" Yes, it takes us longer than most people to get through the episodes, and my youngest son patiently waits while the oldest figures things out. But he is learning, and having fun while he learns.

I watch my oldest with interest during these episodes. I see where we need work, and also how far he's come. There was a time when he could not identify idioms. Now, when an unfamiliar figure-of-speech is used, he will turn to me and ask, "What does that mean?" Sometimes he will seek reassurance from me, "That's funny, isn't it?" ...

And once again, I am amazed at what God has brought forth, for the opportunity for my son to learn, for the bonding that comes with laughter, for the family time, and for the growth. And I am humbled, because the entire process came out of something I had considered off-limits.

As for learning social skills from tv shows, an article from Psychology Today states, "viewers often empathize with the characters or at the least think about what they would do if they were faced with similar situations. Constant viewing of these shows provides the audiences with opportunities to broaden and enrich their social toolbox and to think about some of their own issues." **

It's tough to let go of lofty ideas, and hard for parents to admit when they're wrong. I could've snapped off the tv as soon as the boys came into the living room that day. But we would've missed fantastic social skills teaching and family time. My vision and hopes for the boys haven't changed. I still use documentaries to reinforce science and history. Books are still prized possessions. God is our Anchor. Reality tv is still off limits. I'm still a Geek.

Our existence is nothing like 'The Brady Bunch' or 'Father Knows Best,' but if I am to be honest and give due credit, there are several folks from TV Land who've helped me along the way. My pre-parenting self might cringe, but I heartily say "thank you" to Elmo, Yan, Kipper, Thomas the Tank Engine, Franklin, Arthur, Bill Nye, The Magic School Bus, Mr. Rogers, Schoolhouse Rock, Andy Griffith, Reading Rainbow, and... Frasier & Bernie Mac. You have all helped me raise my sons.






*You should know by now they aren't going to watch every episode...not all of it's suitable viewing for children.
**http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/communication-central/200908/can-tv-increase-social-skills

Someone Saved my Life Tonight...

With all due respect to Sir Elton John, this song has been playing in my mind since this idea took root in my head... hence the title of this post.

When people learn about the boys' adoption stories, I'm often told, "You saved their lives." People mean well, and I realize the statement seems true...but do they really understand it when I say, "No, these children saved mine?"
~~~
Growing up, I dreamed of being a Mom. Not a lawyer, or doctor, or fireman. I wanted to be a Mom! As strong as that desire was, I also had a stirring in my spirit as I got older. I felt this overwhelming conviction I would never get pregnant, that my journey to Motherhood would not be easy.

The years rolled by ... high school, work, college classes, eventually marriage. A very painful period of my life began. It was a decade of infertility. A decade of feeling unworthy, of confusion, of bitterness, of pain. A decade of hating my body, and it's apparent betrayal. A decade of avoidance - of the problems in my marriage, and in my body. A decade of inadequacy, angst, and pleas to God. But through it all, my heart's desire did not change or waiver. I still longed to be a Mom.

Twice during those years, once in Boston, once in Northern California, I contacted social services  and inquired about adoption. Both times, I was greeted warmly until they learned I was married to a man in the military. The answer was the same: "We're sorry, but military families are never in one place long enough to complete the foster adopt process." Slam, another door shut in my face. Another hurt. Another rejection.

Looking back, I can see God's plan and purpose. But during that dark time, loss and despair were all I saw, all I felt. I grieved. I built walls. I tried to hide it, but the dark cloud in my spirit grew stronger. I was trapped, in several ways. The call to motherhood was stronger than ever, yet the way was unclear.

The year was 1998. I opened the newspaper and saw an ad for a class entitled, "How to Adopt." It had to be the Spirit which made me want to go to the class and try again. I'll never know what made my ex-husband agree to attend the class, but he went also. At the class I learned about hundreds of thousands of children living in orphanages in Russia, Romania, and the eastern bloc countries who were in need of homes.

And all of the sudden... Doors opened! Suddenly, there was possibility, encouragement, and support. Papers were signed, home inspections completed, applications submitted, all with hope in my heart. I was going to be a Mom!

All the while, events were unfolding on the other side of the globe. A teen mom, with no source of support and an ill child, made what must have been a very difficult decision. Records show she visited her son 3 times (after he spent a year in the maternity hospital) before signing papers that would allow him to be adopted. She signed those papers in September of 1999, and in October of that same year, I held a picture of the child that would become my oldest son. The caseworker asked me, "Do you want to adopt him? Do you realize how sick he's been?" Without hesitation, my answer was "Yes!" I held him for the first time in May 2000. A decade of infertility. 14 months of an intense adoption process. I was a Mom! Thank you, God!

Our adoption visa was set to expire ... and I had always hoped to mother more than one child. So we moved forward quickly with a second adoption and August of 2000 found me holding another child's picture in my hands. A child who'd been removed from a reportedly unfit home. My only answer was, "Yes! Yes, I want to be his Mom!" I held him for the first time in December of that year.

Several salvation stories started blending together. My sons gave me focus, helped me develop a back-bone, and helped my dream become reality. Both boys were developmentally delayed, but as therapy, love, and prayer surrounded them, their lives became stories of restoration. While I centered my efforts on them, I saw our home life more clearly, and when my oldest was in danger, God orchestrated events (some rather painful) that eventually led to stepping away from the marriage, despite every instinct that said stay and cower. Over time, God used the trials and despair of single motherhood to strengthen my faith and bring me to His gift of salvation.

So let's look at the statement again: "You saved their lives." I'm sure several people have seen me hesitate, then respond, "No, they saved mine." Ultimately, God used each of the three of us, to save each other. My hope is that our story of rescue, redemption, and restoration will be an encouragement to you. Whatever you're going through, keep the faith, have hope. And however you build your family, I pray your story is one of salvation and deliverance, for all involved.

Just in case anyone asks

Years have a way of flying by...

Yesterday, I stood on the sidelines of a football field and watched my two sons perform in an award-winning marching band program.

As I looked at their handsome faces, I saw disciplined concentration, focusing solely on their performance.
As I watched the band move across the field, I saw my sons balance on tip-toe, perform ballet moves, twist and turn, march backwards, and reverse directions in split-seconds.
For the duration of their presentation, I watched them hold instruments steady in an upright, level position for 10 long minutes as they entered the field, performed, and exited.
And the whole time, I thought to myself... wasn't it yesterday they were babies?

I suppose you could say, I saw the same things every parent saw: Children who are growing up, working towards a cause, performing as a team.

But for me, each and every single performance, each practice, each bus ride, each time my children are included in an activity, I also see God's miracles at work.

I stand there and watch my sons, and in the back of my mind, I see -- can't help but see -- two young boys who had so much against them. I see the young 3 year old, running through the apartment, babbling in some mix of Romanian and English, smiling at me as he emptied the Pampers box and laid his diapers out in designs on the carpet. I see the 3 year old who couldn't distinguish right from left, who had limited upper body strength (because he never crawled), and who had only known hunger and survival, and who was kicked out of preschool because of his energy level. And then I see him surrounded by peers who support him, who have helped him bring out his best efforts. And I see him marching proudly with that heavy barritone, blowing for all he's worth. And I see God.

I look at my tall, freshman son, playing his clarinet, marching on tip-toe, leaning forward and back. I watch his fingers fly across those keys as he works through a trilly passage. I am so proud, and thankful, because I also see a 17 month old baby who could not stand the feel of water on his skin, who screamed like a banshee when I tried to bathe him.(He had never had a bath). I see a boy who could not walk or run without falling. I see a child who did not speak. And I think of an Occupational Therapist who gently said, "You know he's autistic, too?"

These images flash in front of me as I wait for the performance to start. And then I push those memories to the side, and I watch my sons on the field... and I see miracles, and I am greatly humbled.


It is not for us to know God's purpose or His plan. I struggled with infertility for countless years. And God plucked two boys out of orphanages on the other side of the globe and matched them with this crazy old woman. Why? I can not say. But if we are able to glorify God and be a testimony to His glory and good works, than that is more than enough for me.

The next time someone asks you, "Have you seen God at work in your life today?" please share your miracles! If I am asked, I will gaze with love at two teenage boys, and tell you, "I see Him at work every single day."

May the Circle Be Unbroken...

 Driving to school a few days ago, the conversation was a mix of the usual:
-Don't forget to turn in your assignments.
-Grandma will be picking you up, don't make her wait.
-Did you comb your hair? 
 ... interspersed with school and band updates from the back seat crowd.

Then, I heard my oldest say, "Well, <student> got in trouble for losing his music. Like I do, sometimes."(1)

We were sitting at a red light and I turned slightly to look at my son. Referring to the student, I said, "He is a very nice young man. You know he is autistic, like you?"

My oldest son's eyes met mine for a brief minute. The light changed, we moved on, but the conversation continued.

As I drove down the road, I continued, "I got to know him a little bit at band camp. You know he's hard of hearing, too? Actually, I don't know if it's auditory processing or deafness... He is very polite and really is trying hard." Both of my sons attested to the young freshman's earnest efforts, and good attitude.

I then asked my oldest son, "Are you helping him, the way the upperclassmen have helped you? Are you looking out for him the way others have looked out for you? You understand... Leaders are advocates, Leaders help others learn how to help themselves. You're growing up, you need to be as positive in this child's life as others have been in yours."

From the backseat, there is a moment of quiet, then "I'm going to talk to my friends who are section leaders. We can help him. I'm going to talk to the band director, too."

As I smiled to myself, I asked "Well, what are you going to say? You can't just walk up, point at someone, and be insensitive. You must find the right way to say things, help them keep their pride, but achieve goals, too. Let's have a plan."

And so, we practiced social skills ... 
-When talking to the upperclassmen and section leaders, to be discrete, quiet, and to choose the appropriate students who will work with this student.
-When approaching the Band Director, to start delicately, with "Excuse me, Sir" and "I thank you and respect you" before broaching any concerns about the needs of this particular student. 

Later that night, I asked my son how his efforts were received. "Well, mom, some of the other kids are going to work with him. I'll look out for him, too. And <Mr. Band Director> thanked me for coming to him and telling him my concerns. He said he knew he was autistic and is going to hold him to the same high standards he holds me."

I told my son I was proud of him, of how he conducted himself, and how he stood up for someone who needed help. I reminded him of his goal to be section leader, I reminded him, "This is how a true leader operates. They build their team, then they achieve greater goals." I reminded him, "Think about the upperclassmen and students who look out for you, teach you, and help you."

He responded by saying "Yeah" and telling me he needed to get back to his minecraft game, and that he loved me. (He got it, but he was done).

Fast forward to last night. I was at work, and Grandma was on the parenting scene. She sent me a rather lengthy text (no easy feat for Grandma), telling me how a compassionate, caring Senior band student had stayed after school with my oldest son. For almost an hour, they had worked on my son's marching routine.

You see, while my son is blessed with the ability to quickly memorize music, coordination of hand and feet movement is much more difficult for him. This is because of challenges with "crossing the midline" or "cross-lateral motion," often experienced by persons who are Autistic. (2)

Here at our house, this is a skill we've been working on since my oldest son's diagnosis, almost 10 years ago. I would use masking tape and create figure 8's on the garage floor - and walk those 8's with both of my sons. We would play a foot-hand/sock-matching game, we did grapevine walks, and crab walks... and so much more. And for all that effort, the boys have made remarkable progress. But some challenges still remain. We will keep working, keep praying, and keep moving forward.

And so, I'm thinking about a Senior student with a kind heart. This same Senior (and several other beloved band members / upperclassmen) have been looking out for my son since he started marching band last year. They have been patient - they have been compassionate - they have helped mold my son into a fine member of the marching band. I'm thinking about the parents of these students... what an amazing job they've done in raising children who are making changes in this world - at young ages. They will go out and do amazing things, of this I'm sure. And they are teaching those around them to build one another up, not tear them down. We should all behave in such a grand manner.

.... May this circle be unbroken!



(1) To learn more about Executive Functioning and Organizational Skills, click here:  http://www.ncld.org/types-learning-disabilities/executive-function-disorders/organization-crucial-executive-skill-child-ld
(2) To learn more about Crossing the Midline / Cross-Lateral Motion, click here:  http://nspt4kids.com/parenting/help-your-child-develop-the-crossing-the-midline-skill/

Through his eyes

Back and forth he walked.

Every so often, he would sit down, but was back on his feet in moments.

Back and forth, up, down. Making random comments as he passed.

I was exhausted. I had nearly cancelled our weekend because I was too tired to face the task of packing. Sharp, chastising words were almost out of mouth, but I stopped as I looked at his eyes.

He was sitting across from me, looking right at me, meeting my gaze. He needed me to understand.

I waited.

He said, "Mom, this isn't home."

And there it was, staring at me: Autism.

As my son has matured, the days of constant and intense autism vigilance have lessened. Sometimes we go weeks without facing Autism. But it still lurks in the shadows.

So as my son looked me in the eye, searching for reassurance, he said, "This isn't home. My things aren't here."

And I looked him right in the eye, took a deep breath and said, "I love you. You are safe. But we are not going home. You are going to spend a lifetime making transitions, and this is one of them." 

As I said the words, I prayed them, too. "You will go to college. You will have a career. You will travel with your wife and family. And you will be able to survive it all and sometimes have fun, too."

I'm not sure he believed me, but he seemed reassured. He settled down and enjoyed the weekend. New experiences (transitions and surroundings) are not easy for autistic persons, but we had a good time at the lake. Yes, there were compromises along the way, but he (and his brother) survived and had fun!

As for me? Well, I'm not going to forget looking into those eyes. It's taken years of effort to get this young man to make consistent eye contact. But he can do it. He did do it. And the same boy who (years ago) could not understand what "hunger" was, who could not understand the basic signals of his body, sat down and talked to me and tried to tell me what was going on in his world.

I'm always amazed how God works in our lives. I thought my weekend prayers were simply going to be of thanksgiving for good friends, and a blessed break from the demands of the world. In the end, I was thanking God for so much more: for the strides made over the years, for the reminder of work yet to be done, and for giving hope for the future... to both of us.

Could a greater miracle take place than for us to look through each other's eyes for an instant?
Henry David Thoreau